


Small Smiles

by LegolasLovely



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Blood and Injury, Comfort, Elf Culture & Customs, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23286301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegolasLovely/pseuds/LegolasLovely
Summary: (Y/N) is an elf who can’t get her mind off the human in the medical wing of Lothlorien.
Relationships: Boromir (Son of Denethor II)/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	Small Smiles

**Author's Note:**

> This is just me trying to live after watching FOTR again last night. GIVE BOROMIR LOVE AND SAFETY Anyway, this is from a beautiful ask that @fantasticallytragical / @cassiabaggins sent me: "Boromir only dies if you accept it in your heart. If you don't accept it, he survives the orcs and is sent to Lothlorien to heal and recovers in time for Aragorn's coronation, gets married, has two boys he names Meriadoc and Peregrin, is an awesome uncle to his brother's kids and dies at the ripe old age of 95 peacefully at home after a long full life."
> 
> {Warnings: EVERYONE LIVESSSSSSS, talk of violence and possible death, mentions of blood, sadness but ends in flufffffffffffff}

The information ran through the corridors of Lothlorien like wind rustling over lips to open ears. The Fellowship was broken. The team of saviors and protectors was fractured, sent abroad like ships in the night, leaving one close to death- the human from Gondor. It was said he defended the halflings, even when three arrows forced him to his knees and mercilessly stole his breath and blood. No one with ears was spared the grisly details.

(Y/N) had heard the stories and while most elves of Lorien couldn’t put a face to the name Boromir, son of Denethor II, she remembered him from the day they met.

Her mind had been racing almost as fast as her feet when she rounded a corner and gracefully plowed into him. Young healers didn’t often see human men and she was so startled by the wide shoulders, tapered waist and _hair_ \- so much hair- that she was barely able to whisper an apology. 

He’d caught her, large hands with thick fingers around her upper arms, catching her as if the elasticity of his chest would bounce her away to Rivendell. 

“My apologies,” he said, releasing her. “Are you all right? I didn’t hear you coming.”

She nodded so vigorously that some of her shining hair shook out of its braid and landed on her cheek. Her eyes blew wide when he lifted a his hand to touch it, but he quickly caught himself and his hand flew back to his side. 

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“As am I.”

Then the other human of the Fellowship called him away. Boromir nodded and turned down the corridor, red and blue waving with his speed. Before he left, he’d given her an unexpected smile. She would have thought humans were loud and brash, full of toothy smiles that would unleash themselves with no warning, but this man’s smile was small and subdued. Honest. 

Yes, she remembered him. Her skin grew hot at the news of his grave injuries and she felt alienated from her people who seemed to barely care about this warrior’s mortality. Some often spoke of the human race being inferior, but now they whispered about this specific human being beneath the other who joined the Fellowship. Words like “weak” and “temptation” were muttered in empty corridors and “evil” was stuck on their tongues like tar. It all made (Y/N) reel with complex, unfamiliar emotions. 

So she defied every ordinance there was and slid into the private healing chambers where the human was being kept. She immediately regretted it. She could barely step through the door as terror overcame her brash actions and blooming beliefs. The air in the room vibrated with what she assumed must be the scent of death. In a panic, she set her eyes on the man’s bare chest, ignoring the thick, maroon stained bandages, and waited. It took a long moment, but his body slowly rose and fell. He was still alive. 

She silently crossed the floor to his bedside and she couldn’t help but smile as she recalled what he’d said when they met. He hadn’t heard her coming. Of course, she thought, because to humans, who seemed to stomp with every step, elves appeared to float above the ground as they moved. Compared to herself, everything this human did was deafening. Even now, his breath was loud and laborious. She watched it fill his chest and then deflate, like waves on the shore.

She stood so entranced that when he coughed, her shoulders leapt and she practically bolted out of the room. Then, shaking her head, mortified at herself and glad the man hadn’t seen her, she returned to his bedside. This time, she sat down in a chair and leaned forward, listening again to the heavy, steady breath of a man dying.

Her skin grew too hot again. Lady Galadriel had said he may die. She’d done everything she could to heal him and now his survival depended on his body’s strength. (Y/N) looked down the man’s bare chest and hard belly until the blanket covered him. This was the strongest man she’d ever seen, he must live. He’s spent his entire life- a blink of an eye compared to an elf’s- fighting for others. Now he must fight for himself. 

How could the Lady leave him to such a fate? She knew what was to happen, why did she not try to stop it? She could have kept him from joining the Fellowship and he would have remained in Gondor- not safe, but safer than anyone could be while journeying to Mordor. 

“Are all of our fates written for us?” (Y/N) whispered, running her fingers over the man’s cheek. The hair there was coarser than she’d imagined and she couldn’t stop her thumb from feeling his skin from the corner of his mouth to his ear, tucking the dirty locks away from his face. She hadn’t realized his eyes had opened.

“I know you,” he said.

She flew from her chair, sending its legs scraping across the floor. “I-I will go. Your healer will want to know you’re awake,” she said.

“Stay. Please.”

She couldn’t disobey. She sat, conscious of her knees hitting the side of the bed. Too close- she was too close to him, if someone walked in and saw her with this human, she’d lose her apprenticeship as a healer. But how could she leave him alone in here? Somewhere he’d never been, so far away from his home and everything he knew, when, _still,_ he may die? He didn’t deserve any of it.

The back of his fingers brushed her cheek. “Don’t cry. It’s all right.” Then he took her hand and gave her his small smile. 


End file.
